by Carolyn Myers
And as Jesus entered the house of the two women, Mary folded up her Sunday New York Times, put down her cappuccino and sat and listened at his feet, while Martha washed his feet in the rose petal scented water she had concocted of rose buds and hips gathered in pre-dawn hours –the buds in early spring and the hips in late fall after the first frost, and preserved in special oils pressed from her own walnut trees and grape seed vines and then processed in ceramic bowls thrown in her little potting studio whose windows she herself had also created from cracked automobile safety glass and then stained with onion skins, elder berries and indigo dyes steeped out of original 501 Levi jeans, and then stenciled in early Coptic Christian motifs.
Lo, the very bowl in which the Master’s feet were being washed had been crafted on the pottery wheel in that very shed and the towel on which his feet would soon be dried had been woven from yarn hand spun of the hair of the pets of that shed – the tiny miniature lamas, which Martha had crossbred over countless nights of collecting lama sperm and injecting it into the smallest lama females from basters made of common packing materials. This personalized, monogrammed (J.C.) towel. Martha had woven on a loom, whose frame she whittled from Apple wood boughs and connected using not metal nails, no, but bamboo paperclips, each one individually sliced 3/4 of the way up.
Meanwhile, her sister, Mary, just sat there, wearing a chitor Martha had hand embroidered (of course) and sandals Martha had made from old tires and glued together Greater Jerusalem phone book yellow pages. Mary went to get a magazine to loan to Jesus and Martha spoke to him:
“Lord, Mary does not help me with the preparation of unique cleaning solutions, whether of herbal or of animal sweat extracts, nor does she help prepare the chore or recipe file, or even follow said files; nor does she maintain these rooms following feng shui principles. Or replace the door wreaths with holiday appropriate décor! Tell her to help me.”
And Jesus said, ‘Martha, you are worried about many things, while Mary has chosen one thing and to her choice has gone the greater portion.”
Later, Martha was in the kitchen preparing a light yet robust pan-Middle Eastern Buffet lunch of finger foods and both savory and sweet dainties, and she thought meanly that she would not give Mary an equal portion of the feta grape-leaf capered pepper spread on cracked barley salt hand shaped crackers, (though this slight would be impossible to manage when serving buffet style). Martha knew this cruelty in thought to her sister was not the right spiritual direction, so she determined to study the meaning of the master’s words. Yes, she would find the meaning, she would! She would! And then… and then… and then she would cross-stitch it on that Egyptian linen she had stored. Ohhh, but first she would have to carve and fashion a needle from what remained of the wild boar tusk and resize the marrow bone embroidery hoop – all these thoughts were with Martha as she invited the Master, the disciples, and Mary (that sloth!), to come and partake.